Navigating Thy Enemy
by Conradigan
Summary: Captain Jonathon Evans is a skilled sailor and navigator, but when his already death-stricken vessel is attacked by the Horde, he is quickly incapacitated. He wakes up, much to his surprise, in the most unlikely of places: the home of a sin'dorei priest! As he slowly recovers from his wounds, Jonathon begins to learn more about his so called "enemy" than he previously thought.


Chapter I

* * *

The gale tore at him and he felt it's bite deep within and he knew that if they did not make landfall in three days they would all be dead. Too many deaths on this voyage, he thought, I'm Captain of a dead fleet. One ship left out of five, eight and twenty men from a crew of one hundred and seven and now only ten walk and the rest near death and our Admiral one of them. No food, almost no water and what there is, brackish and foul.

His name was Jonathon Evans and he was alone on deck but for the lookout in the crow's nest, a scrawny fellow by the name of Lester who was shivering and searching the sea ahead. The ship heeled in a sudden squall and Jonathon held on to the wheel on the quarterdeck until she righted, timbers squealing. She was the _Solitude_, two hundred and sixty tons, a three masted trader-warship out of Theramore, armed with twenty cannons and sole survivor of the expeditionary force sent to investigate the disappearance of the _Lion's Pride_ off the Lost Isles.

The wind freshened even more and the ship lurched. She was riding under bare poles but for the storm tops'ls. Even so the tide and the storm bore her strongly toward the darkening horizon. There's more storm there, Jonathon told himself, and more reefs and more shoals. And unknown sea. Good. I've set myself against the sea all my life and I've always won. I always will. First Human captain to successfully navigate the Drowned Reef. Yes, the first-and first captain ever to sail this dangerous route between the continents, apart from a few bastard Goblins who think they own the world. First Human to navigate this route...

So many firsts. Yes. And so many deaths to win them. Again he tasted the wind and smelled it, but there was no hint of land. He searched the ocean but it was dull, gray and angry. Not a fleck of seaweed or splash of color to give a hint of a sanding shelf. He saw the spire of another reef far on the starboard quarter but that told him nothing. For a month now outcrops had threatened them, but never a sight of land. This ocean's endless, he thought. Good. That's what you were trained for-to sail the unknown sea, to chart it and come home again. How many days from home? One year and eleven months and two days. Too long.

The cut of the wind stopped his mind from wandering and kept him awake. To sleep now would be foolish. You'll never wake from that sleep, he thought, and stretched his arms to ease the camped muscles in his back and pulled his cloak tighter around him. He saw that the sails were trimmed and the wheel lashed secure. The bow lookout was awake. So patiently, he settled back and prayed for land.

"Go below, Captain. I'll take this watch if it pleases you."

The third mate, Maverick Hanz, was pulling himself up the gangway, his face gray with fatigue, eyes sunken, skin blotched and sallow. He leaned heavily against the binnacle to steady himself, retching a little.

"Where's the mate, Maverick?"Jonathon asked.

"In his bunk. He can't get out of his loft. And he won't-not this side of Judgement Day."

"And the Admiral?"

"Moaning for food and water." Maverick spat. "I tell him I roast him a capon and bring it on a silver platter with a bottle of brandy to wash it down. That damn bastard."

"Hold your tongue!" Jonathon snapped.

"I will, Captain. But he's a maggot-eaten fool and we'll be dead because of him." The young man retched and brought up mottled phlegm. "Blessed Light help us."

"Go below. Come back at dawn."

Maverick winced and leaned on the railing. "There's the reek of death below. I take the watch if it pleases you. What's the course?"

"Wherever the wind takes us at this point."

"Where's the landfall you promised us, eh, Captain?" There was a hint of venom and bitterness in his voice. "Where's the Eastern Kingdoms?Where is it, I ask?"

"Ahead." Jonathon answered coolly.

"Always ahead!Blimey, it wasn't in our orders to sail through this route!We were supposed to take the official lanes! We should be back home by now, safe, with our bellies full!"

"Hold your tongue or go below deck, mate!" Jonathon shouted, his last nerve having given out. "I am the Captain of this vessel and as such, you will obey my orders!"

Maverick sullenly looked away and shut his mouth. Where are we now? he wanted to ask. Why can't I see land? But he knew not to ask those questions of this particular captain. Even so, he thought, I wish I was as strong and healthy as I when I left Theramore. Then I wouldn't wait. I'd smash your gray-blue eyes now and stamp that maddening half-smile off your face and send you to the abyss you deserve. This is what Jonathon suspected was going through the pale man's mind right now and he was right...

"Ship ahoy!" Came a shout from the crow's nest.

"What in the seven hell's? A ship, here?" Jonathon muttered, scanning the horizon but seeing nothing.

Maverick quickly pointed off the starboard. "There!"

Sure enough, Jonathon could faintly see the silhouette of another vessel just beyond that reef spire. It was too far to make out it's flags, but it was large enough to be a battleship. The only ships that dared brave these treacherous waters were pirates, he thought nervously. No doubt that's who it was, and he prayed that the storm would make them think twice about attacking. While the _Solitude_ was a warship itself, they no longer had the manpower to man the cannons and certainly not enough to repel pirates on deck. Their only hope was to outrun them.

"Alert the Admiral, I want all available hands to their stations!" He shouted, more out of habit than necessity as Maverick was just beside him.

The man scrambled down the stairs and below deck. Jonathon kept an eye on the silhouette, and was mortified when it turned on an intercept course with him. The damn pirates were going to attack after all. So be it. He had fought pirates off before, albeit on previous occasions he had a fully armed and healthy crew behind him. Now, he had no more than a dozen men who could barely stand, let alone hold a sword. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to give up without a fight.

Half a dozen men came spewing onto the deck and went about their orders. Many stations were left unmanned, but he mainly needed them on the starboard cannons. They quickly went through the works of drying the rope and bringing up ammunition and torches. Lester even came scurrying down from his perch to assist. By now, the unidentified ship was closing fast, faster than Jonathon had anticipated. The hope of outrunning them was quickly fading, as it was clear their ship was in much better condition than the _Solitude_. If he guessed right, they would be within firing range in minutes.

Again, he miscalculated. He saw the flash and the wooden banister on deck exploded in every direction as it took a direct hit. The ship rocked at the force and Jonathon had to hold the wheel tightly to avoid slipping on the slick wood. Another flash and another hit, somewhere below.

"Fire!" He shouted.

The measly crew quickly loaded up their cannons and took aim. Another flash and one of their own cannons took a brutal hit, sending both it and the man behind it flying off the port side. The remaining men returned fire, though their nerves were a mess and they hadn't lined up their shots, so they went wide. More rounds pounded the hull of the _Solitude_, rocking it violently and sending a couple of crewmen to the deck.

As the unidentified ship closed the distance, Jonathon's face paled, more so than it already was. They were not pirates. Even in the fading light, he could clearly make out the wretched blood symbol adorning the black sails: Horde. A terrifying war cry rose from the enemy ship as it neared, and he could now make out fiendish figures scrambling on the deck, hooting and howling. Orcs, he cursed.

They fired another volley and pocketed the _Solitude_'s starboard hull and Jonathon heard cries of fear and pain from below as no doubt more death was happening now. The ship lurched again, and this time he could hold on, falling to the ground hard. A cannonball tore through the banister and wheel, flinging wooden slits everywhere. Jonathon screamed in pain as a large piece stabbed into his thigh. The wood splintered and carved deep into his skin.

His head swam from the impact. Darkness threatened the corner of his visions. He had to fight it, to lose consciousness now meant death. Then again, he wasn't sure the situation would turn out any other way. He wanted to at least go down fighting. Not like this..

The last thing he heard was a guttural war cry that would echo in his ears for a long time.


End file.
